Catharsis
by A'jes' Blue
Summary: This is NOT a sequel to FMR... This is a Percy Weasley angst-ridden story... Born from the idea that Ron is a seventh son and Percy lost his best friend very, very early.


## Catharsis  
A'Jes' Blue, February 2001

_ Author's Notes: Usually I put my author notes at the end of a story because I never want to read what the author thinks BEFORE I read the story… It all only makes sense to me AFTER. That said, I am putting these up front for those who have asked for a sequel to Full Moon Rising. This ain't it, folks. However, this was born from that project. I was happily working on plot ideas and writing up some scenes for the sequel, just - you know, puttering with story ideas and in the first meeting between Ron Weasley and Sama's Aunt Iris she declared him a seventh son. Now I realize this is not a new idea. I mean seven years is an amazingly long time between babies for Molly and Arthur. In ONE SENTENCE Iris had neatly supplanted the story I was trying to write with Percy telling me his story. I HAD to write this. I didn't have much choice. It just happened. I swear. I don't know where this is going, but I really doubt I will be able to get rid of Percy that easily. I have a feeling he likes the view from my house, and is going to move in and haunt me. As for the characters of Tris and Grandmere, I honestly don't know. There is more to them than meets the eye, and that's all I am going to say about that!_

_ Grateful thanks to my darling CL who I love more than anything, and who really has no idea what a pandora's box of obsession she opened up (you will always be my Bestest, too!). Also thanks to Cairnsy for her really nice words of encouragement. _

* * *

_ say goodbye to music  
say goodbye to light  
anything I care for  
take it from my sight  
let me see no future  
let me hear no sound  
only darkness and pain  
the anger and pain  
the blood and the pain  
they buried my heart in the ground  
in the ground  
when they buried you in the ground_  
  
**-from _Ragtime (Ahrens and Flaherty)_**

* * *

Percy looked around the tiny, stuffy office and sighed. When did paper pushing become his existence? When did he stop having fun? Could he remember ever having fun? He snatched off his glasses and rubbed tiredly at his eyes. When did his life turn into such a joke? When could he just stop being Percy the Perfect? He was so tired. Tired of not knowing how to respond to others. Tired of playing the straight man to his younger brothers' jokes. They thought they fooled him with their pranks and gags, but he was always painfully aware of their low opinion of him. He couldn't even bring himself to get very worked up over Fred and George's antics anymore. He knew they viewed him as a self-important prig, but it was an act, wasn't it? A defense to prevent anyone from getting too close. He _knew _he was not important at all. In fact if they knew the truth of just how worthless he was… And it was also a habit, and habits were so hard to break. You break one and the next thing you know all your habits and defenses were in tatters. He felt like such a fraud. He tossed his glasses on the desk. He was beginning to hate that particular affectation. Glasses! He didn't need glasses. He wore them because at one point they made him feel safe. He could hide his eyes behind the glasses, and no one could see into his soul. They served as shield and armor. They also occupied his hands when he was nervous. 

Percy had been sitting here in his office pretending to work all day. Pretending to feel strongly about the thickness of cauldron bottoms, when he was really trying to not remember. He should go home, he knew. But home was the one place he didn't want to be right now. He hated the autumn. Always had and always would. 

That wasn't precisely true, he reminded himself viciously. There had been a time, long ago, when he'd loved the colors of autumn. Green turning brown, with small flashes of brightness here and there. The long, drab, rainy days occasionally gave way to crisp blue skies and sunshine that never quit. Sweet apples, fresh from the trees… There had been another, then. The Shining One. His "bestest". Percy pushed the thought away. Rising suddenly from his chair, he threw some of the paperwork into his briefcase and stalked out of the office. Last one to leave, again. Mechanically, he shut off the lights as he left the building. Turning up the collar on his cloak against the chill, he walked down the street. 

He watched surreptitiously, from beneath his unruly hair, the other people walking along the street. He paused outside a pub, considered carefully, decided he didn't want to eat at home tonight, and went in. It was a typical wizard establishment, with all manner of strange clientele. He chose a small round table in a dark corner. He set his briefcase on the slightly sticky top of the table. Shrugging out of his cape, he hung it on a peg on the wall. 

"Hiya, honey, what c'n I gitya?" A buxom witch was standing next to him. Idly, he noticed her odd accent, she sounded almost American. 

"Hot soup, and butterbeer, please." 

"Com'n righ' up!" He was grateful when she turned away without any more friendly banter. Seating himself on the slightly rickety chair he knew he should open the case and extract one of the files for his report on Monday morning. Knowing and doing, however are two separate things, and he did nothing while waiting for his meager meal. His face was grim, and none of the patrons that took notice of him wanted to approach. He was thankful when the server reappeared carrying butterbeer and steaming hot soup with a crusty bread roll on the side. He let the homey aroma surround him, but didn't immediately eat. It was another habit, he reflected. He never ate immediately, as if he was waiting for something to happen before beginning. It was ridiculous! He chastised himself angrily. It wasn't as if he was sharing his meal with anyone. 

A raucous cheering went up in the other corner of the pub, a group of laughing, happy people were toasting an older couple in their midst. "Happy Anniversary!" "Cheers!" and the like. 

Percy turned away and started to eat. The soup was scalding, and though it brought tears to his eyes, he didn't stop. The bread smelled heavenly as he broke it open, warm and fresh from the oven. But it tasted like dust to him, though, and stuck in his throat. Frustration and rage welled up, and he couldn't finish. He drained the bottle of butterbeer to wash down the dryness the bread left in his mouth. Then he paid the check and left the pub. The words echoed around him, taunting him, _happy anniversary, anniversary, anniversary_. Anniversary. Nothing to be happy about. Savagely he thrust the thought from him. Memory haunted him. He wandered aimlessly, knowing he had nowhere to go but home. Home to the Burrow. Only he couldn't face the warmth of family right now. Granted the only ones home would be his parents, but he couldn't face them tonight. Their own grief, dulled after all this time would be close to the surface tonight. All his younger siblings were away at school, and his older brothers were off on their own adventures. Older brothers- No. He would not think about it. 

Unbidden, his thoughts tumbled and whirled, assaulting him, breaking free from the prison he'd walled them up in long ago. They were all one of two, the Weasley children. Fred and George were obvious because they were twins, but the others had been paired with close siblings as well. Ron and Ginny, Bill and Charlie, and Percy and… No he didn't want to go there. He didn't want to face that ancient hurt. He had successfully buried it for years, and he wasn't about to give in now. Walking with no purpose, he stopped for a moment in a doorway to get out of the wind. It was a moonless night, and growing colder with each passing hour. Crouching over his briefcase, he pulled his wand from it and wove a warmth charm into his cloak. Standing again, slightly more comfortable, he continued down the street. As he walked he noticed the number of people on the street thinned out, until he was alone with his thoughts. 

He studiously tried to think of nothing. Just putting one foot in front of the other was all he allowed himself. He didn't notice when it started to rain, a slight cold mist. He didn't notice when he started to be paced by a small child. He was concentrating very hard on just putting one foot in front of the other. 

"'Scuse me." 

Percy whipped around and came face to face with empty air. Glancing down in confusion he noticed a thin child, dressed in dirty rags looking up at him with huge dark eyes. His surprised cry of "What?" was gruff and the child flinched. Gentling his tone he asked again. "What?" 

"Are you lost?" 

"No." Percy paused hoping the child would disappear. No such luck, the kid was looking up at him with bright eyes, even though his - her? - lips were slightly blue. "Are you?" 

The child laughed a tinkling, happy little laugh. "I ain't lost! But you isn't even looking where you're goin'." 

"Do you have a home, child?" 

"'Course I do! Do you?" The moppet laughed again, and Percy pulled his cloak around him tighter. 

"Yes." 

"Shouldn't you be there, instead of wanderin' abou' in the cold?" The merry black eyes were dancing. Really a most unpleasant child. But cold, too. Sighing, Percy took his cloak off his shoulders and tossed it around the waif. He had been an older brother too long to see a shivering child and not try to warm it up. His robes were his lightweight summer robes still, but he had on one of his mother's hand knitted sweaters underneath, and he figured he would be warm enough. The child looked up at him with piercing eyes that seemed old and wise somehow. Then the illusion was gone as he (she?) snuggled into the warm cloak. "Thanks! Hey, come for tea would ya?" 

"Tea? With you?" Percy folded his arms across his chest trying to hold onto his body heat. 

"Yeah, yeah, with me. Whadja think? Com'n." The child grasped his arm and started pulling him toward an alley. Percy just had enough time to pick up his briefcase from the pavement where he had set it before foolishly giving up his cloak. 

The child led him through a dizzying array of alleyways and around dark corners, up staircases and down, into tunnels and out. After a few minutes of being pulled along, Percy was surprised when they stopped outside a plain wooden door with a dim light above it. Turning the knob, the child entered the dark room, and yanked Percy inside right behind him. 

"Uh, I really don't think…" Percy started. 

"Of course you don't, young man." The mellow, aged voice came from the interior of the room next to the small fire. "Who have you brought home with you this time, youngling?" 

"He's lost. He lent me his cloak, Grandmere. See, and kept it warm with spells!" 

"I see, my child. Give him back the cloak, now. You don't need it." The child handed it back to Percy, who was beginning to feel dizzy from the sudden warmth of the room. His hands were red with cold. He realized he must have been out far longer than he thought for his wind burned cheeks stung in the heat. "Have a seat, young man, come next to the fire so I can get a look at you." 

"I'm not, you know. Lost I mean." 

"Ah. Are you not, now?" The woman held out her hand to him and he took the squashy chair opposite her. He sat stiffly, or as stiffly as the melting chair would let him. It didn't seem to want to let him stay upright, he sank farther into the chair and leaned back almost against his will. She smiled at him. "My name is Morana. This young imp is my grandson, Tris. Tris, tea I think." 

"Yes, Grandmere." The child, _Tris_, Percy reminded himself, brought three teacups and saucers from a shadowy nook. 

"My name is Percy." He knew it was marginal bad manners not to introduce himself fully, but he couldn't bring himself to tell these strange people more than they told him. It was as he watched Tris pour the tea that he realized the old woman, _Morana_, was blind. He accepted the cup gratefully and sipped the steaming beverage. It smelled of chamomile and cinnamon, sweet and spicy. It warmed him all the way to his core. The warmth of the fire was getting to him, he thought, and that's when he realized the tea was far from harmless. His eyes closed of their own volition. He really had been pushing himself too hard for the past few weeks. Feeling slightly dizzy, Percy tried to shake himself out of the stupor. "What did you…" he started before an overwhelming exhaustion overcame him, and with the intense sensation of falling, Percy lost consciousness. 

"Will he be all right, Grandmere?" Tris watched his new friend closely, with a concerned expression on his face. 

"I think so, child. Can you see it? Such pain he is in. Ahhhh… Now he is dreaming! Good. He took his first step in healing…" She stretched her frail hand toward Percy, lying unaware in the chair opposite. A soft pale blue glow started gather around him as Morana smiled gently. "Poor child. He has struggled for so long all alone. Tris, do you feel it-the pain?" 

"Yes, Grandmere. I sensed it within him outside. I found the right man, didn't I? He is the one who called us here, isn't he?" Tris was frowning and his eyes overshadowed with worry. 

She nodded. Her magic was strong in the divination arts, and for weeks had focused on this young man. As her visions had cleared and become stronger, she saw herself and Tris doing just the things they had done in the past few hours. "He could be a powerful wizard in his own right, if he can get past this trauma. Goodness knows we need all the wizards we can get on our side. Now, let us let him dream in peace." She withdrew her hand and the glow lessened. Morana sensed Percy's life was approaching a turning point, and she devoutly hoped that the little she could do for him would assist with his transition. After watching Percy's assisted dreaming for a while, Tris kissed his grandmother's cheek, and took himself to bed. 

Percy was dreaming, and aware of it. Images whirled around him. Sounds of children laughing and playing surrounded him. He found himself standing in front of his home, the Burrow. It was a ramshackle place that looked used and abused and shabby. There was a passel of little boys in the yard, all ages. The largest was barely a teenager, tall and lanky. The next biggest boy appeared only slightly younger, but he was built along stockier lines. There were two little boys, about three, obviously twins, dressed identically. There was a baby in a playpen, set right near the front door. Then there were the two who caught Percy's attention: one tall for his age, maybe five years old, and one slightly older, although no taller than his playmate. All had shocking red hair. "Erec." Percy's dream-self named the boy who caught his attention and held it. The child was about seven, here. The same age he was when he died. This must be the summer before. The summer before Percy lost everything. 

"Come on, Bestest! We've got to climb!" The high childish voice ripped through Percy as he watched the boy climb nimbly into the trees. His own five year old self followed willingly. He remembered he always followed unfailingly wherever Erec led. Erec was his Bestest, and he was Erec's. The bestest brother, the bestest friend. It was always so. Bill had Charlie, Fred had George, the baby was too small to want to play with anything but his own toes, and besides, Mum was going to have another baby for Ron to play with. Percy had Erec, his bestest. 

The two boys roomed together, more out of want than need. Except for the headboards, they had matching beds, Percy's was carved with an ornate "P," and Erec's had a curly "E". Long after lights out they would giggle together in their room, telling secrets, or scaring each other with creepy stories. Most nights, when one or the other got scared, the morning sun would peek into the room, one bed empty, and the other with two little heads on the pillow. 

Erec could climb higher into the trees and pick the best apples. He always picked two. Always. One for Percy, one for himself. He always gave the biggest, shiniest one to Percy. Percy was better at conning cookies from Mum. He would gaze up at her with those big, liquid blue eyes, and she always gave in. Always. She always gave him two. The biggest cookie always went to Erec. Looking back, Percy's dream-self realized that Mum always knew what the two of them were up to, and knew if she gave Percy only one cookie, Percy wouldn't have a cookie to eat. He'd give it to his bestest. Molly Weasley certainly knew her children. 

Their clear young voices echoed through his memory. Loud and laughing; "Catch me if you can, Percy!" "Race you!" "Faster Bestest, faster!" and low in whispers; "You know you'll always be my bestest friend, Erec." "Percy, you are my bestest friend." "Bestest, do you think there are snakes under the bed? I can hear them!" They were inseparable. Erec also looked out for his younger brother. He never asked more of him than Percy could give. They got into a fair amount of mischief together. They pulled a lot of pranks that Bill and Charlie had taught them. Frogs, or other creatures turned up in odd places, sugar was suddenly salt at the table, beds were found short-sheeted. They were quite the duo; laughter followed them everywhere they went. Laughter, and lots of love. Their boyish squabbles were few and far between, and never lasted more than a few hours. 

Percy had been told that Erec would start school that fall, of course. Each day he would go to the little village over the hill. But Percy didn't realize he would be separated from Erec for most of the day, every day. 

First he was confused, and confusion turned to anger at being left behind. Erec had always taken him along before! Always. Weren't they bestest friends? Why was he left out? His mother didn't know what to do with him. She was pregnant again, sick a lot, and had the twins and the baby to look after. Percy was such a good, big boy. He could help Mother with the children, couldn't he? But Percy couldn't, and wouldn't. All he knew was that for days and days and DAYS he had been left behind while his bestest went off without him. 

Percy hadn't acted this way when his older brothers went off to Hogwarts, but then neither one of them played with him much anyway. Bill and Charlie always played big boy games together, and Erec and Percy were too small to keep up. Both Bill and Charlie could fly on real broomsticks, and were so much bigger than the two small boys that they almost seemed like miniature adults to Percy. They were never around anymore, anyway. They were both at Hogwarts. One day, Percy had had enough. He would go after his bestest brother and tell him exactly what he thought. 

He waited until Mum had put the younger boys down for a nap. Then, he snuck out of the house, and down the lane. He was determined to find Erec. He just didn't know that the village school was so far away, or that the autumn sunshine would be so warm. Soon his little legs tired, and he sat in the shade of a tree by the side of the road. Before he knew it, he was asleep. When he woke, the shadows were long on the ground, and the sun was setting. It was cooling down rapidly, and Percy's short jacket didn't even begin to keep out the chill. He was cold and disoriented. He didn't remember right away he had been searching for his bestest. He went trudging home, unhappy, with tears streaking his face. His parents were frantic when they discovered Erec wasn't with him. Hadn't been with him. No one had seen Erec since he'd gone off to school that morning. Percy didn't realize that most of their worry surrounded the fact that the wizarding community had been plagued with terror and death for the last few years. 

Afterward, he would find out that when Erec returned home from school and found Percy missing, he had gone off to search for the little boy. He had climbed up to the very top of the tallest tree to see if he could spy Percy anywhere about. Already weakened from the previous winter's harsh storms, the top of the tree was not as sturdy as Erec expected. The fall itself wouldn't have harmed him too much-- he was a wizarding child, after all. But the treetop broke off and tumbled after him, and crushed his tiny body beneath its weight. His father found him there later that night, long after Percy had cried himself to sleep. For the first time in his life Erec wasn't in the bed beside him, and Percy was inconsolable. 

After the burial, Percy's mother went to bed and stayed there until the birth of her last child. Percy was numb. He cried for three days when he finally understood his bestest was never coming home. After that he was a silent little boy. He blamed himself for the death of his brother and best friend. Guilt and fear. If he hadn't disobeyed his mother, his bestest would still be here. If he had truly been a good little boy, Erec would still be alive. He decided never to be bad again, convinced that if they knew it was his fault Erec was dead, they would hate him. So he didn't. He didn't make trouble, he didn't pull pranks, he didn't climb trees, and he didn't _talk_ to any of his family. His father was too worried about his wife, and possibly losing the child she carried to pay much attention to the younger boys. He asked his sister to come and stay until the baby was born. Percy's aunt had enough trouble chasing after the twins and baby Ron, now toddling about on unsteady legs to worry much about Percy. She was only thankful that there was one child who didn't need to have a constant eye on him. 

Percy spent more and more time in his (their!) room. He wouldn't let his parents remove any of Erec's things. He slept each night in Erec's bed, grieving for his brother, missing the warmth of his brother's body, and blaming himself that his bestest wasn't there. After Ginny was born, his mother, in her own grief, quietly packed up all the photographs of Erec, replacing them with pictures of the new baby. She took Erec's clockhand from the clock in the kitchen (and added a new 'hour' to the clockface, replacing "making mischief" with "mortal peril"); she took all his personal items from around the house, and put them away in the attic. She didn't pack up Erec's room, because Percy had unceremoniously, and furiously thrown her out. He wouldn't let anyone touch Erec's things. For years he wouldn't let anyone touch anything in the room. Then, just before he went off to Hogwarts, he packed up Erec's toys, marbles, and all the treasures they found together, and took them up to the attic. The only thing he kept was Erec's bed. His own he disassembled and stored with Erec's stuff. He never spoke Erec's name again. Each year his parents went and put flowers on Erec's grave, and each year Percy refused to go. It got to the point they never asked him. 

Every once in a while he would catch his mother watching him, gazing at him searchingly. He knew she was remembering the laughing, carefree, wild thing he had been when he followed his shining brother blindly. But he couldn't bring that child back. He pushed everyone away. It was easier to do that than face the fear that he would only lose them, too. He knew it hurt her when he shut himself off, but he couldn't seem to help it. He had to protect himself from the pain and guilt and worthlessness he felt. It didn't help Percy any that he was envious of his younger brothers Fred and George. Their close relationship was so reminiscent of Percy's and Erec's that each time they flouted the rules and pulled a prank, Percy was reminded painfully of all he had lost. They didn't know it, but they were walking reminders of Percy's guilt and fear. And Percy was so afraid. Of them, and for them. How would they cope if one lost the other? Their closeness to each other terrified him. His fear kept him imprisoned and away from his family. His warm, loving family, that Percy was just too frightened of to accept their love. In turn, his family was confused and saddened by the change in Percy, but not knowing what to do about it, they did nothing. 

Waking suddenly in the squashy chair by the small fire in the dark little room Tris had led him to, Percy was surprised to find his face streaked with tears. 

"Feeling better, young man?" The old woman reached over and patted his knee. Her sightless eyes crinkled up at the corners as she smiled in his direction. 

"What was in that? The tea, I mean." His voice was thick, and his throat tight with unshed tears. 

"It's a special blend, child. It has healing properties. Tris told me you were so lost when he found you, you were wandering in circles. He knew you were one of his 'specials' when you gave him your cloak. He wanted to help you. He was right when he said you were lost, wasn't he, child?" 

Lost? He had been lost since the night Erec died. He didn't think anyone had ever found him. _ Not that you ever let them_, a small voice taunted him from the back of his mind. "I don't know." Percy thought back over the memories the tea had pulled from him. He swallowed back a rising sob as fresh tears leaked from his eyes. 

"So much pain. It has been a long time since I felt anyone in so much pain. It's not good for you to keep it all inside, child. Do you think he would want that?" 

"What?" Percy was startled, a rising panic flashed in his eyes. _She knew_. Could she also see his guilt? 

"Your brother, Erec. Forgive an old woman, but your memories were so bright, I couldn't help but catch snippets here and there. I tried not to watch, but some things leak, you know, and your emotions were particularly strong when you saw him climbing that tree! Such a little monkey he was." She laughed gaily at the vision, and suddenly Percy saw it, too. Not as an observer, as he had when he watched the events, but as a participant. Erec fairly swarmed up that tree trunk! Percy felt the elation he always had while watching Erec's lithe body climb a tree. He was the best climber in the Weasley family. And then there was the way he died… 

Feeling a little stupefied, Percy just sat gazing at Morana for several long moments. Clearing his throat, he was suddenly uncomfortable in the chair. Pulling himself out of it he stood shakily, and slowly backed out of the room. "I really must be going, thank you for the tea. It was very nice to meet you, tell your grandson goodbye for me…" he babbled, and turning, he fled from the dark little flat. If he allowed the feelings in now, he might very well be lost for good. He was so rattled he didn't even realize he left his briefcase behind next to the little hearth. The cold wind woke him out of the lethargy caused by the heat of the room and the tea. Struggling into his cloak, he tried to find his way out of the maze of alleys and tunnels. Soon he was more turned around than ever, and he tried to Apparate. It didn't work, and he realized he would have to walk out, although why anyone wanted to spell this rundown neighborhood against Apparating was beyond him. Panicking now, he ran headlong trying to find his way out and away. Out of the back alleyways and away from his memories. 

After several wrong turns he suddenly found himself out on a street he didn't recognize. A light fog was rising. Walking again, he followed the street almost in a trance. He let his feet carry him wherever they wanted. Using no magic, and no wand, and no directions, he followed an instinct to the gates of a cemetery. Somehow he knew why he had been drawn here on this cold dark night, but he entered the cemetery despite his misgivings. Although he had never been here before, he knew exactly where he was going. He made a beeline straight for it. He couldn't seem to stop himself, and he was dreading it. He didn't want to look- he didn't want to _see_. Then there it was, a headstone in the Weasley family plot. There were fresh flowers there, his parents must have come. 'Erec Weasley' he read on the stone, his birth and death dates, a scant seven years apart, followed by a one-word epitaph. It read 'Bestest'. Percy shattered. 

With a low cry of pain Percy threw himself down on the grave and sobbed. His heart was breaking all over again, fifteen years later. It was the anniversary of the death of his best and only true friend. All the pain and rage and grief came pouring out of him as he lay on the cold damp ground and beat his fists into the unyielding stone. Howling his pain the words tumbled out of him in a strangled torrent. "Why did you leave me? Why… ohhhh Erec… please… why… why… didn't you take me? Why couldn't it have been _me_? It should have been me…" He didn't know how long he lay there, wind whipped, and cold. His warming charm had worn off at some point, because he was chilled and stiff when he came back to himself, and his face was wet with too many tears. The sky was beginning to lighten. When he did move, he couldn't bite back the low moan that ripped from him when he discovered he wasn't alone. His brother Bill sat quietly next to him. "How… How long…?" His throat was raw. 

"Mum was worried when you didn't come home last night." Bill wasn't looking at him, instead gazing off into the distance. Percy sat up and realized he was shaking, but whether it was from the cold or emotion he couldn't say. 

"I… didn't want to go home." Percy blinked and wiped at his eyes. 

"Yeah. She called me, and Charlie, to see if you'd come to one of us, but you hadn't. I told her I'd find you." 

"So you found me." Percy said tiredly. He realized he was on the verge of crying again. Would he ever stop crying? 

Bill turned to him suddenly, his eyes blazing as they seared into Percy. Whatever he was about to say died on his lips. He saw the naked, unguarded emotion on Percy's face as he flinched under Bill's direct stare. Bill's expression softened, and he reached out and pulled his younger brother into a tight embrace. Surprised, Percy fought it for a moment, before giving in and, clutching Bill back, he started sobbing uncontrollably. "Shhhh… It's all right… just let it out…" Bill listened to the anguish pouring out of Percy, the younger brother who had buried himself deeply in a tough shell so long ago. Bill rocked him back and forth murmuring soft, soothing noises. Percy's fists beat on Bill's back as he choked and sobbed. 

"It's my fault… mine… Why did he climb that tree? He was my best… best… why? My fault… he's dead… why is he dead? Please… please… make it stop… I don't want to be anymore… it should have been me… should have been me… so worthless… why couldn't it have been me?" Bill was shocked at the self-loathing he heard in Percy's voice. He struggled to continue his soothing rocking motion and not betray the feeling of growing rage that his entire family had let Percy go on for so long blaming himself. 

"It was an accident, Perce. Not your fault… shhhh…" Bill found himself crying with Percy as he comforted him as best he could. For long minutes he could do nothing but helplessly hold on and wait. 

When Percy's crying quieted, and his body stopped shuddering, Bill gently drew him to his feet, and carefully holding onto him, Apparated them home. As they opened the front door his parents came out of the kitchen, worry etched in both of their faces. Leading Percy inside, Bill stopped his parents' questions with a look and took Percy upstairs to his room. Percy's eyes were empty and glassed over and he didn't respond when Bill gently helped him out of his damp clothes and into dry pajamas. Hissing slightly in sympathy when he found Percy's hands abraded and bleeding where he had beat them against the headstone, Bill gently rubbed a healing potion into them and wrapped them in soft cloth. Tenderly, he tucked Percy into bed, and almost before his head hit the pillow Percy was asleep. Then Bill went back downstairs to talk to his parents. 

He found them in the kitchen. It didn't look like either had been to bed. Percy had never not come home before. His mother had told him that Percy's hand on the family clock had been in motion since early evening, swinging wildly between 'lost' and 'traveling'. Frantic with worry, she had contacted Charlie, and then Bill hoping that Percy may have turned up at their doors. She had not needed to remind Bill of the date or it's significance for Percy. He had promised to find him and bring him home. 

Bill poured himself some coffee-- its very presence in the kitchen bespoke his parents' anxiety-- and joined them at the table. Molly Weasley watched her oldest son as he sipped the coffee, warming his hands around the cup. "Where did you find him?" She asked in a low voice. 

"Erec's grave." His father gasped, but Molly didn't look surprised, only sad. She nodded slightly. Bill hesitated to bring it up because he knew it would hit his parents hard. But in the last few hours he had seen firsthand his brother's tortured soul, and to honor Percy he knew he couldn't keep silent. "Do you know he blames himself for Erec's death?" He asked as gently as he could. 

At this his mother's eyes went wide with shock. Arthur Weasley reached out and put his arm around her. His eyes shut as he pressed his mouth to her temple in a comforting kiss. Her eyes were awash in tears, and she covered her face with her hands, keening softly. Feeling horrible for bringing this fresh pain to them, Bill reached out and laid a comforting hand on his mother's shoulder. 

"I'm sorry, Mum." Bill paused. "He was hysterical. I've never seen Percy like that. He's usually so controlled. I remember coming home after term ended that year. Percy wouldn't talk with any of us. Charlie and I should have tried harder to include him, but he was so prickly. Cold even. Where did my laughing, happy little brother go?" His voice trailed off as he remembered that difficult summer. The only joy seemed to be the babies of the family. Even the twins were subdued. The family hadn't yet adjusted to their loss. The little girl captured all their hearts with her happy nature. Every heart but Percy's, he wouldn't have anything to do with any of them. He pulled away whenever approached. He refused to be included. Then, the next summer he seemed better. He played with Ron and Ginny, but he still wasn't _himself_, it was almost as if he were acting at being a member of the family. After a while they all got used to Percy's reticence and sudden strict adherence to rules. The little mischief-maker he had been was no longer with them. He seemed afraid of doing anything wrong. He suddenly hated to do anything anyone would be upset with him about. _ Almost as if he were afraid we would stop loving him_, Bill reflected wryly to himself,_ but hindsight is always 20/20_. At the time it was just annoying. Percy got increasingly fussy over every little thing. He didn't seem to be able to let himself have any fun. Was he punishing himself, Bill wondered. Did he even realize he was doing it? Was he so afraid of losing the love of family he took a preemptive stance making it difficult for anyone to really know him? So many questions now swirled in Bill's mind. So many puzzle pieces fell into place. 

"It was such a difficult time- just after Erec's accident. We were afraid I'd lose the baby. I knew he took Erec's death hard, but I never imagined he _blamed_ himself." Molly's lower lip trembled as she spoke. 

"He was just a little boy. I didn't think he really understood what had happened to Erec." Bill's father's voice was low and rough. 

"It sounds like he's felt responsible for a long time. I don't know, Mum. Dad. I feel like it's our fault he's kept on like this. We should have seen, _known_ something before now. There were so many signs Percy wasn't all right, and hasn't been for a long time. It's been fifteen years!" Bill said, distressed. 

"We couldn't have known, Bill." His mother's first instinct was still to comfort. "I don't think he's ever even been to the grave before." She added almost as an after thought. 

"I wonder what happened to make this all come out now." Arthur said quietly. "Well, it's now out in the open, and we can deal with it. Maybe I can convince him to take some time off and get away somewhere." 

"Do you think he'll go along with that, Dad?" 

"We'll have to make sure he does. We can't just ignore it!" Molly was adamant. "He needs time to grieve. He'll need time to figure out where he goes from here." 

Arthur agreed. "I'll make sure he gets some time off." 

"I have a month before my next assignment begins. I was going to spend it on the continent with Charlie, but maybe Percy… I can take him with, or we could go off on an adventure of our own." Bill mused. He was surprised at how grateful his mother looked at this suggestion. 

"We'll talk to him when he wakes." 

Late afternoon sunshine was spilling through his window by the time Percy opened his eyes. His head throbbed dully, his nose was stuffed up, and he felt emotionally wrung out. As he lay in bed feeling wretched, he remembered the night before. Groaning slightly he pulled himself upright, and his mother bustled in with a tea tray. If she noticed he wouldn't meet her eyes she gave no sign. She didn't even seem to want him to speak at all. She chattered brightly, never once mentioning the worry he must have caused her the night before. She left him to eat the meal she'd prepared and drink his tea in bed, like an invalid. Confused, because he knew Bill would have told his parents where he'd been and how Bill had found him, Percy ate and drank. Then he got up, washed, and dressed. He was surprised how stiff he was, and although the cuts had healed on his hands, they were still bruised and ached when he moved them. Slowly, he made his way downstairs, afraid of the reception he would receive. He entered the kitchen to find his mother and Bill having a late afternoon cup of tea. Bill saw him standing in the doorway and his face lit up. 

"Percy! Here, give me that." Percy merely blinked when Bill relieved him of the tray full of empty plates. "I was just telling Mum about my last assignment. Come join us." 

Percy's ingrained polite refusal died in his throat as his brother led him to a chair and poured him a cup of tea. 

"How are you feeling?" His mother looked at him with concern, but it was a serene kind of concern. She exuded warmth, and comfort. Unaccountably, Percy felt his eyes fill with tears. 

Swallowing hard against the lump in his throat he managed a weak, "I'm all right." 

Gently his mother gazed at him with a sympathetic, loving expression. "We were so worried when you didn't come home last night." She murmured softly. 

"I'm sorry, Mum," he started but she cut him off. 

"No, Percy. I'm sorry. I am so sorry that you went so long thinking… believing that Erec's death was somehow your responsibility." She talked very softly to him. "Bill told us where he found you, and I regret more than you will ever know that I didn't see it. Your father and I failed you, Percy. And we are so very sorry. I hope that someday you will be able to forgive us." Percy's face was slack with shock. They wanted _him_ to forgive _them_? 

"But he went out…" Percy started to say and again he was interrupted, this time by his father, standing in the doorway. 

"Percy, it was an accident. It happened. You were _five years old_. It could _never_ have been your fault. Never." His father's face was serious, and he looked old and worn and very sad. 

"Erec's death cost this family a lot, Percy. It cost us a bright, shining, happy little boy who brought joy to all who knew him." Bill paused and waited until Percy had focused on him, and holding Percy's eyes with his own he continued. "His name was Percy. We lost Erec, but it also cost us _you_. We lost twice. One loss was sudden and horrible and tragic. But the other was even worse because it happened so slowly, and we didn't even realize how much we missed or needed it until it was gone." 

Percy didn't even know there were tears rolling down his face until Bill pulled him into a rough embrace. He was in shock. They didn't hate him. _They knew and they didn't hate him_. His thoughts were in a whirl as he tried to process that amazing discovery. 

Bill pulled away after a moment, but he kept his hands on Percy's shoulders. "I have another few weeks before my next assignment. I'm going to visit Charlie, and then I'll be at loose ends for a while. Why don't you come see the dragons with me?" 

"What?" 

Bill's voice was low and gentle. "Take some time, Perce. You need to process the last couple of days. Come with me, get away for a while." 

"But the Ministry…" Percy began weakly. 

"Will still be here when you get back. You've been working non-stop since you started there almost a year and a half ago. No one will think twice if you take a holiday." Arthur stared piercingly at his son, willing him to object further. Percy's gaze moved from one face to another, slightly panic-stricken. He shut his eyes and nodded finally in acquiescence. When he opened his eyes they were all grinning at him. 

"Brilliant!" Said Bill. "I'll owl Charlie to make up two extra beds!" 

The rest of the day was a blur for Percy. He sent his owl, Hermes, with a letter to his supervisor at the Ministry to request a leave. Hermes returned two hours later with permission and good wishes for a relaxing holiday. 

The next day was spent packing and preparing for his trip abroad. Every few moments he would be overcome with panic, and have to stop and breathe slowly so he didn't hyperventilate. His mother was in and out of his room with clean laundry, a warmer sweater, tea and cakes, and any other small service or item she could do or fetch that she thought he would need. Just after lunch his mother called him downstairs. 

"What is it, Mum?" 

"There is someone here to see you." She had a strange expression on her face. Percy understood why when he entered the kitchen. Talking seriously with Bill, and eating some of his mother's fresh baked cookies was a small child in tailored clothing. A cloak of rich black wool was haphazardly thrown over the back of his chair. The child's immaculate appearance was all the more surreal as Percy recognized him. 

"Tris?" The merry black eyes glanced toward him. _This _was the imp who he had met dressed in rags? This shining haired, bright eyed, obviously affluent looking boy? 

"Percy!" Tris hopped out of the chair and threw his arms about him. "I am glad you're feeling better! Grandmere sends her regards." Percy reflexively hugged the child back. 

Questions whirled about in his mind, but he could find no voice for them. Weakly, he asked, "What are you doing here? How did you find me?" 

"Silly Percy! Grandmere has had her eye on you for a long time. Me, too. You pulled us here. You, your pain, and your need." Tris looked deeply into Percy's eyes, and Percy had the feeling that he was in the presence of great wisdom, and then the moment passed and he was only staring into Tris' black eyes. "And you left your case in front of the fire. I brought it back to you." Tris leaned into Percy and whispered conspiratorially, "I am glad you found your way." Smiling cheekily, he gathered up his cloak, and turned to Molly. "Thank you for a delightful time, Mrs. Weasley. Bill. I must get back. Grandmere and I have so much work to do." 

Percy ushered Tris to the door, not knowing what else to do. Halfway down the walk Tris turned. 

"Have a lovely time abroad, Percy. We _know_ you will!" Tris' smile sparkled and he mounted the broomstick he had set just outside the door, and flew away. Percy watched him, conflicting feelings cascading within him. 

He had several weeks now that were unplanned. He couldn't remember the last time he had an expanse of unplanned, unscheduled time. Time, opening like a great yawning hole, black and scary. _One step at a time_, he reminded himself. And this time he wouldn't be alone. Bill would be there, and Charlie. One step. Just one. 

First, he would go see the dragons. After that, who knew? 

** Fin**


End file.
